Page 23 of Obsessive Love
“Says you,” I said and shrugged. “You want to see your room?”
“Just kill me,” she requested, and I shook my head. “Why not? You want to see me suffer, have me beg?” she laughed humorlessly. “That isn’t going to happen. I won’t beg you for shit, ever.”
I chuckled as I stood from my chair. “Yes, you will,” I replied. “Now, come on, so you can see where you’ll be sleeping.”
“Bury me at the top of a hill so I can watch the sunset every day; it’s my favorite thing to do,” she mumbled behind me as she followed.
“Noted,” I said as we walked through the living room. On the way to her room, I gave her small details about each space. My office was off-limits, but she could go to every other room.
“Why can’t I go into your office?”
“Because it’s mine,” I answered as we passed the door. Truthfully, I knew once she stepped foot in there, I would neverbe able to work in peace again. Every room Fable entered was filled with her scent, and thoughts of her filled my mind. I spent hours watching her while I was supposed to be working, and having her in my space would have my head gone.
We walked up the stairs and passed the room that was initially intended for her. Instead, we walked to my bedroom, and I pushed open the door. My room was my sanctuary, and I wanted her in here.
“Look around and tell me what you want to change,” I said, stepping to the side.
“Change?” she asked, and I nodded. “Gonna make me comfortable before you kill me?”
“Something like that,” I replied with a shrug.
“Pull out your phone so you don’t miss what I’m about to say,” she countered, and I did what she instructed. “New bed — I refuse to sleep on something that you’ve fucked bitches in.” I chuckled but didn’t say anything. No woman had shared that bed; in fact, no one outside of close friends and family had ever stepped into my home. I didn’t believe in sharing spaces with anyone whose energy didn’t sit right with my soul. But Fable didn’t need to know that yet.
“What else?”
“The wall color needs to change.”
“To?”
“Dark purple and blue,” she answered as she walked around my room. Right now, everything was black, but I didn’t have a problem with her wanting it to reflect her. I planned for her to redecorate the entire house to reflect her style, anyway. By the time she noticed it, it would be too late for her to do anything about it. “I like the floor, so a rug will do.”
“What about the bathroom?” I asked. Fable looked around, and I pointed to the door to her left and watched as she pulled it open. “What do you want to change in there?”
“Nothing,” she answered as she looked around. Her answer surprised me since it was decorated in black like the kitchen. “It can stay.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. I sent my assistant her list, put my phone in my pocket, and leaned against the wall. “Now, would you like to hear my plans for you?”
“I don’t want to see my death coming,” she denied, shaking her head. “Surprise me.”
“Noted,” I laughed. “Until then, Story Time is going to become global.”
“Excuse me?” she gawked, and I smirked. “Global? How the fuck is that going to happen?”
“You’re a smart woman, Fable; figure it out,” I said, then pushed off the wall. “Until then, get comfortable. You’re in for the long haul.” I turned and left the room, locking the door behind me.
“Fuck you, Pyrite Stone!” she yelled and pounded at the door. “You hear me, fuck you!”
“I don’t like it,” I said to my mama as I moved around her kitchen. I would have rather been at home, dealing with Fable’s so-called attitude, but we came when Mama requested our presence. It didn’t matter that we were grown-ass men.
“You haven’t tried it,” Mama replied, rolling her eyes. “Don’t say you don’t like something if you haven’t tried it.”
“I haven’t tried a lot of things, and I know I don’t like them,” I countered and shook my head.
She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what, Pyrite?” she asked with a skeptical look.“Because out of all my children, you are the most stubborn and set in their ways.”
“All kinds of shit,” I answered with a shrug. She wasn’t lying; I was the most stubborn and hated trying new shit. The food on the counter next to her was no different. As a kid, I ate the same things: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If Mama tried to change the menu, I wouldn’t eat, and she didn’t give a damn. I went to bed hungry plenty of times.
“Try it, Pyrite Stone,” she demanded, pointing to the plate. I pushed off the counter and stared at the plate. My face instantly twisted, and she giggled softly. I cut my eyes at Mama, and she threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up.”
